Enemies and Friends
by Rioghna
Summary: Rumplestilskin makes a very poor active enemy. Set Series one, just after Skin Deep. What if he had gotten Belle back earlier, how would that have changed things for everyone? This story is posted at AO3
1. The Escape Plan

Enemies and Friends

The man watched quietly from the shadows. He'd been following her closely for the last several days, though he had to be extremely careful. It was a small town, and he wasn't ready to be seen yet. It was close, he could feel it in the air, the savior had come and the end of the curse was near, but she had stalled a little. What Emma needed was an advantage, some help, a plan. There were only two powers in Storybrooke, and one of them was the enemy. What he needed for her was a true ally. Mr. Gold, or more properly, Rumplestilskin. The all powerful Dark One himself might have no magick here, but he was as smart as ever, as cunning as a sack full of foxes, and the only one besides the Queen who had his memories. The young man had noticed, and he knew that Regina had figured it out as well. But the Dark One always played more than one game. He came here with a purpose, or rather allowed Regina to bring him here with a purpose, and the young man knew what it was. He'd been tempted to summon Bae to help, he'd not help his father, but he would do anything to help Emma. But that was not a good plan, and he wasn't sure the young man could actually get into town or what that would do.

So he watched and waited, and tonight, he found what he needed. Leave it to Regina to keep an ace in the hole, and now he had found it. He watched the woman leave, hiding himself in plan sight, in orderly's scrubs with a mop. It was time to turn up the heat. Rumplestilskin made a dangerous and tricky opponent in the usual way, and he and the queen had danced this dance, but that was ending with the curse. He was pretty sure that the last thing that Regina wanted was Mr. Gold as an active enemy.

It had taken longer than he wanted, working out how to follow her, finding the secret hospital annex below. He knew he ought to figure out who else was down there and why, but that might compromise his plan. Once he found the secret, it was several more days, watching, working. If you look like you belong and do what people expect you to, they get sloppy. More time, lulling the suspicions of the mostly bored and generally inattentive (unless Regina was visiting) staff, and he was ready to make his move. At first he considered just releasing all the patients and leaving them wandering the corridor, but that would be too obvious and result in discovery that much sooner. Instead he picked a few patients, once he was sure weren't dangerous, ones that seemed almost familiar. After that it was a simple matter. He waited. Just after shift change, after the patients had got their food and their medicine to keep them quiet, or would have if he'd not swapped a few of their pills.

"Hey, Sandy, I'm going for a coffee, going to be a long boring night, want one?" he offered, as he had every night to the kind of stony faced nurse at the front of the ward. She had just gotten to the point of almost smiling at him. Pity, he thought.

"You know how I like it," she said, and turned back to the Mirror's crossword puzzle. He took himself upstairs to the cafeteria, looking out at the evening. 6:30, and getting dark, perfect for his plan. Gold usually didn't close til closer to 8:00 on Wednesday night, like most of the shops, and it was only a few blocks away. There was no way he would be able to help her once he got her out. He would have to stay to avoid suspicion and sew more confusion. Quickly he fixed a coffee for himself, black, and one for Sandy, cream, artificial sweetener, and two very fast acting sedatives. Perfect. He dropped another in his coffee, for later and made his way back down to the basement.

"Here you go," he told her, handing over the coffee and pretending to drink his. It didn't take long, and she was unconscious, face down on the almost done crossword. He checked her and then took the keys. This was where things were going to get interesting. First he moved his hand picked patients. Left two in the ER, one in the maternity waiting room, another upstairs in OR recovery. They were docile and still a little dazed at being out of their cages. They might actually wander off, which would please him just as well. The longer it took to find them, the more people that saw them, and wondered there they came from, the longer the search for Belle would be hidden. Finally he opened her cell door. Instantly he wished he had planned well enough to get her a coat or at least some boots. Her sweater and hospital gown were hardly proof against the Maine winter, and the hospital slippers were even worse, but he'd done his best. Now all he could do was pray.

"Hello, who are you?" she asked as he stepped into the room, her voice a little apprehensive and a lot curious.

"My name is unimportant. Right now, I am going to get you out of here. Do you want to leave?"

"I...yes, but..."

"No time. Follow me, and quickly, once you are outside, make your way to Mr. Gold, he has a shop on Main Street. Tell him that Regina locked you up. He will protect you. Just make sure you tell him."

"Regina locked me up," she repeated. "Mr. Gold, Main Street." He nodded and took her by the arm out of the room.


	2. Meetings

Belle crept down the street, hiding in the shadows. The man who had let her out had pointed out her destination for her, and she knew enough not to let herself be seen. A car went down the road, and she slid back into the alley beside an office of some sort, closed for the evening. It was cold and she was starting to shiver, but there were only a few more blocks to go. It was fully dark now, and she didn't know how long it had been. Looking back, the hospital seemed very far away now. Belle stopped, froze for a moment, unsure what to do. When she was locked in her little room, all she could do was dream of escape, but now that she was out, running to some unknown man in a strange town she didn't even know. "Be brave," she told herself. "It's an adventure," she repeated to herself over and over.

She slipped down the ally sliding on the icy stones, her hospital slippers completely inadequate to the slick pavement. Hitting the ground, she felt the sting to her knees, but there was no time for this, not now. She dragged herself to her feet and made her way to the alley next to the shop, labeled Mr. Gold, Pawnbroker. Belle tried to look in the windows but they were dusty, and the light inside was not strong. Fighting the cold, the pain from her knee and her frozen feet, she waited, hoping that there was no one in the shop. A car drove by, black and sleek, the lights splashing across the alley almost reveling her. This, she decided, was not going to work. Carefully Belle made her way around to the back. There was a wooden door, a small window with the shade drawn down half way. She peered in the window, but there was nothing there, or rather no one. Instead, there was a cluttered room, full of bits of things, shelves of objects and pieces of objects that she could not identify much less guess the purpose of. The light was low, and the room was empty. Slowly she turned the handle, and was surprised to find it unlocked. She expected the door to creak when it opened but it didn't, just slowly swung open. Belle crept into the room and closed it behind her.

There was a curtain between the room and what she assumed was the front of the shop. She wondered if she would have to go up front and was contemplating her options when she heard the sound, a careful step and the taping of a cane.

"Business is done by coming in the front door, so unless you..." he stepped through the door, and stopped at the sight of her. Belle took a moment to take him in. He was a gentleman of middle age, slim, dressed well. His hair was longish and dark, with just a hint of grey and his face, not handsome perhaps in any regular way, but striking, yes that was it. The voice was smooth, pleasant, and maybe a little threatening, but at the sight of her, he stopped. Whatever he was about to say seemed to have flown.

"Belle?" he asked quietly. The man, who must be Mr. Gold, stepped forward and put a hand on her arm. "You... you're real, you're alive."

"Are you Mr. Gold?" she said, confused and needing to get her message out before she was overwhelmed. "A man sent me... I was... he told me to tell you that Regina locked me up. He said, he said you would keep me safe, protect me." Before she could say anything else, he reached for her, enfolding her in a hug. He held her gently, as if he was afraid that she would break or disappear, whispering softly against her hair, reassuringly.

"I'm sorry, do I know you?" she asked, looking up at him, trying to understand the look in his eyes. "I don't remember, but..."

"You will," he said, making the words almost a prayer. It was all a bit much for her, and she was cold, her knee hurt, and everything had happened so fast. She started shivering, her teeth were chattering and she couldn't stop it. "But that is for later, you are freezing," he said. "Here," he took a heavy coat, probably his own down from a hanger and helped her into it, before leading her over to a cot against the wall and helping her down. "Is this...do you live here?" she asked.

"No, but I keep the cot here, just in case. Sometimes I don't feel like going home, and sometimes, well, this is Maine, the snow can be quite deep. But that is all for later. Are you hurt?'

"I don't think so, I mean, I fell in the alley but I think I only scraped my knees, its nothing..."

"Let me be the judge of that. Let's get you warm and cleaned up for now, and worry about the rest later. I have to keep the shop open, otherwise, someone might notice. But let me see what I can do for you here." He lowered himself carefully down onto a rolling chair and pulled it up next to her, gesturing for her to show him.

Carefully she raised the hospital gown to show to scraped and skinned knees. Belle blushed, just like a little girl, she thought. What is he going to make of me? "Its nothing," she said out loud. "I'll be fine."

"Allow me to worry about that, I have some first aid supplies around here somewhere," he said, dragging himself up, and rummaging on one of the shelves til he came back with a white box marked with a Red Cross. He cleaned her knees, and for a moment, he just sat and looked at her. Then he took a quilt from the foot of the bed and wrapped her up in it. "I'll make some tea for us both. You stay back here, for now, and if you hear anyone, anyone out front but me, you hide yourself, you understand?" She nodded. She didn't know who this man was, but she trusted him completely for some reason. "As soon as I've closed, I will get you out of here." She just nodded, curled up and warm, really warm for the first time in so long. His scent was on the coat, and for some reason it was familiar to her, comforting, like autumn, hearth fires, and something else, something more elusive. Right now, Belle didn't care. She was warm, safe, and Mr. Gold brought her a cup of tea. She didn't even think about the fact that it was exactly the way she liked it.

"It will only be a little while, enjoy your tea dear," he said as he moved through the curtain and into the front room.


	3. Planning

Mr. Gold stood behind his counter fuming. He had only just barely managed to keep the anger out of his voice, away from his body language enough for Belle not to see it. If she had been herself, she would have noticed in an instant, but overwhelmed as he was by finding her alive and safe in his arms, he had kept control. Now it was all he could do to keep from pacing the floor, leg be damned. But the pacing would probably be audible to her, and he wanted nothing more than for Belle to feel safe.

Regina, now there was where his concentration should be. He'd kill her. No, killing is too good for her, he thought, too quick, too clean. Besides, right now, he couldn't kill her, she needed to be alive, just until the curse was broken. Chopping her up alive, and feeding her to the wolf girl at the first full moon after the curse broke, now there was a thought. He dismissed the pleasant daydream after a moment. Belle wouldn't approve, and it was entirely possible that Regina would poison Ruby Lucas, and the poor girl didn't deserve that.

No, he thought after a few moments. This was something that required careful planning, a delicate touch. It had been a long time since he had felt the need for such detail. It would keep him at least partially busy. Then there was the other aspect. Whoever had released Belle had known what they were doing. While he wanted the curse broken, he had been in no hurry, or at least not enough of a hurry to actively oppose Regina, preferring as he always had to act from the shadows, or through others. But as much as he would like to continue such careful planning, now his hand was forced. Not only did he want the curse over so that he could find his son, but to get his beloved Belle her memory back, to regain her sense of herself and who she was. Of course, he also needed to protect her. The longer the curse continued, the more danger of her being discovered, or some means being used against her. No one was going to separate them again, he vowed. Even if she no longer loved him, and he admitted, he had given her no cause, still he would be there for her. If only to himself, he admitted that he would take the least crumb of affection from her table, if only he could be near her. It should have been humiliating to think of himself as he had been, as the all powerful Dark One, willing to kneel at the feet of a girl, but he had long ago given over any pride in that respect.

For now, she was safe. He had locked the backdoor when he had made her tea, and she seemed to be cozy enough nestled in her cocoon. Mr. Gold wanted nothing more than to turn the sign, and take her to his house. He'd not call it a home, he'd never taken any pains to make it one, knowing that it was temporary, and besides, there was no reason to spend more time there than he had to. It reminding him too much of the Dark Castle after Belle had gone. But now, perhaps it would become a home, a real home, a place where he would feel comfortable bringing his son, if he could convince Bae to come back with him, if he could find him.

But for the moment, he had to be even more careful than usual. Keep to his routine, let nothing appear out of the ordinary. Discipline and order, that was the key right now. He didn't know enough, not yet. Would Regina dispatch the Sheriff to find her missing prisoner? If she did, how would she explain it? In a stand up legal fight, there was no way Regina could beat him, and she well knew it for all that she had King George as her pet prosecutor. But even Georgie boy had his weaknesses. He almost giggled at the thought. Also, while the Queen might poke around, she would have to be careful. She would know that if he didn't have Belle and she made a stink, he would know that she was alive, and of what had happened to her. That was something Regina would never want. She preferred their on again off again alliance to doing anything that would make an actual enemy of him.

He spared a brief thought to whoever it was that had freed his Belle. It had to be someone, someone from their world. Gold knew without a doubt that it wasn't Regina. He'd spared a moment or two for the thought that it could be a trick, but without magic, and within the bounds of the curse, that wouldn't be possible. It could have been Jefferson, the Queen had screwed him enough, and he had the cunning, during his lucid moments. The problem was one that Regina hadn't considered when she decided to bring him here, just in case he might be useful to her at some point. His mental state, deteriorated as it was from his time in Wonderland, and the loss of his daughter, was not stable enough to allow the curse and its rewritten memories to have any real hold on him. Oh, sometimes he bought the fantasy, but most of the time he existed somewhere between the two things. When he was lucid and unaffected by the curse, sometimes he would sneak by for a talk with an old associate, they had never had anything but positive dealings before and while not friends exactly, they had a certain mutual respect for one another, that led to the odd glass and talk. After all they both knew what it was to lose a child. But what he did with the rest of his time, Gold had no idea. That was another problem for another time.

He checked his watch, ten minutes to closing, and he still hadn't made his plans. It was a good thing he had driven to work today, he thought. The cold wasn't a friend to his leg, never had been, but some days the pain was worse than others. There were pain medications but he had refused them. There were all manner of things in this world. Surgery that could at least repair some of the damage, he knew existed but the idea of allowing 'Dr. Whale' to operate on him...no. Perhaps, when the curse was broken, after he had dealt with Regina and found his son, maybe then he would consider it, perhaps. Mostly, it helped to remind him of what he had done and how far he would go. But if Belle wanted it, perhaps. The pain wasn't that bad, a penance for all he had done that he would pay gladly.

So, close up, hide Belle in the car, she was well wrapped up. He cast a glance around the shop, trying to remember, he knew there were a few dresses, here and at his house. She would need things, women's things, and while he had the odd dress, he had none of the other things. Actually he wasn't even sure what exactly a woman needed in this world. It was a bit disconcerting, really. It wasn't as if he could go out and buy her things either. It was a small town, and there was no way that his purchase of ladies clothing would go unnoticed. But it would have to be handled tomorrow, for tonight, he wanted to get her safely to his house. Then there was food, he was certain she would need something to eat. He cooked rarely and indifferently, and he was hardly going to take her to Granny's. Perhaps, wrapped as she was, he could stop at the grocery? These practical thoughts kept him busy for the last few moments, as he watched the clock tick down.

At promptly 8:00 he turned the sign in the window, peering out the door to see if the place was being watched, but the street was almost deserted. Just Archie walking Pongo down by Granny's, and what looked like Princess Snow...er... Mary Margaret, walking out of the grocery store with a bag. The time was now. He returned to the back room. Belle was still huddled beneath his coat and the quilt, despite the fact that she had to be warm now. But she looked up at him, and he could see that at least part of it was shock and fear. "Finished your tea, I see," he said, taking the cup up to wash in the small sink. "Give me a moment to gather a few things, and then we can go."

"Wh-where are we going?" she asked, her voice hesitant. Fear and doubt seemed to have returned in full force.

"Well, we are going to go to my house, possibly with a stop at the market for supplies. I'll warn you, I am not much of a cook."

"It doesn't matter, I... don't need anything. Just..." he was by her side as fast as he could be.

"What's the matter?" he asked, looking down at her.

"You aren't taking me back, are you? I know that the man... only... I don't."

"Hush," he said, dropping carefully as he could to the cot beside her. "You aren't going anywhere you don't want to go, do you understand? I won't let anyone take you away against your will. I give you my word." She looked up into his brown eyes, and he could see it, the caution that she had when she first came with him, fading into a trust that he was absolutely certain he didn't deserve.

"Alright. But...can we just go to your house? I don't...I can't go inside, and I don't want to be alone."

"We can. Not sure I can guarantee that there is anything worth eating," he said, trying desperately to remember if there was actually anything in the house. How long had it been since he had cooked anything? There was bread, of that he was certain, he liked a bit of tea and toast in the morning, but for the rest...

"I don't care, really. I just want..."

"Very well, let me get these," he said, pulling open a door behind which was a small selection of dresses, things he had gotten, he couldn't even remember where. He reached up and just bundled the lot over his arm. "Now, Belle, let me..."

"Why do you call me that, you did that earlier? Is that my name? How do you know? Do you know who I am?" she was getting more agitated by the moment.

"I...need to call you something?" he said cautiously, taking the coward's way, at least for now. "We can discuss this further, I promise. But right now, we should go. I'm going to take these to the car, make sure that no one is out there," he said, turning a switch that put out most of the shop lights, leaving only the small light on the desk and one over the backdoor. "I'll be back." He didn't want to have this conversation, not here, certainly not now. She had responded to the authority in his tone, much the way she always had in the tower, when she was about to touch, spill or step on something that could hurt her. But it wouldn't last, not long at all, knowing her. For now, he would settle for getting her home.

After the build up, the rest was anticlimactic, for which he was heartily grateful. No one lurking near the door, the car, not even anyone on the street. He noticed the Sheriff's car was parked in its usual place outside the loft she was sharing with Mary Margaret, so no alert then. He was tempted to drive down Regina's street, just to see if she was there, but that in itself would be suspicious, and unfortunately the large old Cadillac was hardly inconspicuous. Instead he settled for getting Belle into the back of the car, the quilt pulled down on top of her, and drove sedately home.


	4. Dinner for Two

The large arts and crafts style home was mostly dark, save the light in the kitchen and the one over the front door that was set on a timer. While it was useful, and the sort of thing that people did in this world, tonight he found it annoying. Mr. Gold pulled the car all the way into the driveway. He looked around casually as he pulled the clothing out of the car, and opened the back door. It took only a moment to feel sure that they were safe and to help Belle from the car and usher her quickly into the house. The kitchen was warm, and more or less ordinary looking. Mr. Gold put on the kettle out of reflex. "Please, make yourself comfortable," he said, gesturing her towards a seat at the small table.

Belle looked around the room. It was a good size, spotlessly clean, and looked as if it didn't get a lot of use. There was a single cup on the drain board, and a kettle on the stove. There was a hollow feeling, as if the house was barely lived in. She sat down in the chair and watched him move carefully around the kitchen. He had set the dresses down across one of the other chairs, and was busing himself with the trappings of making tea. "Let me see what we have," he said, opening the refrigerator. She watched him, curious about this strange man who, with only the word of an unknown man, had taken her in, tended her wounds and was now trying to make her dinner. It was nice, feeling like someone cared for her. It had been a long time since anyone even noticed her. Oh, there was the woman, the one that would come and look at her, the one who never spoke. There was something malicious in those eyes, not at all like the brown eyes that questioned her now from the open refrigerator.

"Hope you like omelet," he said, softly. "I am afraid that's all that's here. Well, that I can cook without poisoning either of us."

"That would be nice. I don't think anyone has ever cooked for me before, but then if they had I wouldn't remember, would I?"

"Is that why you were locked up, because you can't remember?" he asked, setting the eggs on the counter, trying not to press her. He wanted answers but getting them, that would take time.

"I suppose so, I don't remember," she said, and laughed a little sadly. He turned his back, feeling like his heart was being torn apart. His Belle should never have a sad laugh. It reminded him too much of that day, the one when she had tried to open the curtains and ended up tumbling into his arms. "I don't even know my own name, how can that even happen?"

"It doesn't matter," he said, coming over to her, and leaning close, offering her his comfort, but stopping just short of touching her. He had made that mistake earlier. From now on, he would wait for her. But she didn't hesitate, she leaned against him, throwing her arms around his waist, her head pressed against his side. After a few moments, she released him, blushing.

"I'm sorry, I don't know why, I just feel...its been so long since I could touch anyone," she blushed even harder.

"It doesn't matter, dear," he said, but he stepped back as soon as she released him. "But for now, its time for me to exercise my meager culinary skills on you."

"It has to be better than the hospital food," she said, leaning on her elbows, prepared to watch the show. He smiled, her enjoyment, even if it was at his expense it was enough. He removed his jacket and started toward the closet, but she jumped up and took it from him. "I can at least do this," Belle said. "You have done so much." He just nodded and allowed her to take it from his hands.

"Just hang it on the rack, I can take it upstairs later," he said, turning back his cuffs and taking a navy apron off the hook. She returned to her place, taking up the quilt she had been keeping around her and reluctantly folding it, before removing his oversized coat, and hanging it on the coat rack as well. "If you are still cold," he commented, pulling out things.

"I'm fine now," she said. "It just felt...safe."

It didn't take long before they were both seated at the old table. Dinner was...simple, but he'd managed it. Belle had begged to help, and with some instructions he had allowed her to set the table, and bring the tea over before he sent her to wash up. He served Belle at the table as if she were the finest lady in the kingdom, which as far as he was concerned, she was. She smiled at him, blushing furiously and hugging the ugly sweater over her hospital gown. "I'm sorry I'm not dressed for dinner."

"Nothing to be sorry for. I brought some dresses, but I am afraid that I don't have anything...er... we will get it taken care of tomorrow. I've not had a woman in the house...recently." There was no good way to say that he'd not had any woman here because he'd not considered a woman since she left. "Meanwhile, after dinner, how would you like a bath? I can offer you that much."

"That would be nice, and maybe.. maybe a hair brush?" she said, looking at the mess that her hair was in.

"Easily done. Anything else?"

"No, there is nothing, except..." she paused as if she was trying to gain courage for something. "I would like some answers."

"I am not sure I have any for you," Mr. Gold said quietly, looking down at his dinner. Questions could be...awkward, still, she had a right to know as much as he could tell her. Without knowing what the Queen had done, he needed to be very careful what he told her. What did he know about amnesia? He had caused it a time or two, but here, in this world? Tomorrow, research, that is what he needed to do, maybe talk to Dr. Hopper, as much as the thought pained him. After he had figured a way to get Belle some clothes, real clothes. "But I will try to answer if I can." Honesty, hadn't he once promised that if he got her back, he would be honest with her? Not exactly how he had expected, but then he hadn't expected to ever see her again anyway, he had thought his heart would be forever empty.

"Why do you call me Belle? Is that my name? Do you know me?"

"I..." he paused, wondering how best to answer. Honesty, what could it hurt to tell her that little bit of the truth? "I did know you, a long time ago."

"That's how you knew how I took my tea, that's why the man sent me to you," she said, almost accusingly.

"Yes."

"But why not tell me?"


	5. No Fear of Falling

Mr. Gold sat quiet for a moment, trying to sort exactly what to so. It wasn't going to be easy. He sighed. "Because I was afraid? I am still afraid. I don't know what happened to you, I don't know why you lost your memory. I don't want to do anything to hurt you."

"And telling me things about my past would hurt me?" she said. So far she was calm, but he could see that she wasn't buying his argument.

"I don't know, sweetheart," he said sadly. He was trying, really he was, but this was more difficult than he expected. "I just..." He paused, looking down at his hands, his plate, whatever was in front of him. Then he saw her small hand, reaching out for him. Without even a thought, he took it, gently, giving her every chance to pull away.

"You are trying to keep me safe?" she said. He nodded. Here again, when he should be the one taking care of her, she was reaching out to him. It had only been an hour, and already, she was turning his world upside down. And he wouldn't have it any other way.

"Tomorrow, I am going to see what I can find out about...this..." he waved vaguely. "But we have to be careful."

"They might be looking for me," Belle said, before taking a bite of her food. Mr. Gold took a moment to do the same. It wasn't great, it probably wasn't even good, but he was certain that he should eat it, if only because she would expect it. "Who is Regina?"

Unable to stop himself, Mr. Gold started to laugh. That was his Belle, no matter the situation, her curiosity would always rise to it. "She is the Mayor here in Storybrooke, thinks herself the Queen though. Acts more like it as well. But her reign is coming to an end."

"The mayor? But why would she want to put me away, why would she even care about me? I'm no one, at least, I don't think..." she bit her lip and squeezed her eyes closed, a single tear tracing its way down her check. He reached into his pocket and pulled out an old fashioned handkerchief, embroidered with an R and G in gold, and handed it to her. She took it gratefully and carefully wiped her eyes, before starting to hand it back.

"Keep it," he said. "Though I hope you'll not need it. I can't answer for why Regina locked you up, not with certainty and even if I could..."

"It has to do with my memories?" Belle asked. He smiled gently at her, she always was a smart girl.

"Gold star, love." he said proudly.

Having finished their meal, Belle rose and began to clear the dishes, before he could open his mouth. "You cooked," she told him. "The least I can do is clean up. I want to be useful."

"Belle, you don't need to do this, you don't need to do anything that you don't want to."

"I want to, I want to be useful. You've been working and then you had to deal with me, and well, I don't want to be a burden," she told him as she took the plates to the sink.

"You could never be that, not ever." It was difficult, trying to keep himself under control, to not tell her all the things he had wanted to tell her ever since he had thrown her out, all the things that he had promised himself he would tell her when she returned. Until Regina told him of her death, he always thought she would return. He had been certain of it. Sometimes, he would look through the magic mirror and see her, on the road, hiding from bandits. He even thought once or twice he heard his name. Then she was gone. Not that he had taken Regina at her word. He had looked for her, everywhere, sent his magic to find even the slightest hint of her life force, but there had been nothing. He knew now that she had been hidden, but it didn't make his pain and loss that much less real at the time. Now she was here, standing in his kitchen. She took his apron from where he had hung in, and put it on over her sweater and that hospital gown which he swore would go into the fireplace as soon as he could get her out of it. It would make a merry blaze, along with the sweater and those...things on her feet, the thin slippers that his beautiful girl had snuck through the icy town streets in.

He pried his thoughts away from his beautiful Belle's body. That was a place he shouldn't let himself go. Not now, anyway, maybe not ever. It was true that Belle had told him she loved him, that he KNEW she loved him, true love's kiss proved that to both of them. It was also true that Belle had never flinched from his touch, more, she had reached out for him, free with her casual caresses, her kisses, even her hugs. But she was such an innocent, there was no way that she wanted...well even if she had done, even if she had known what that entailed, now was not the time for any of that.

Trying to distract himself, he rose from his chair, and moved toward the counter. He put away the bread and butter, and looked for something else to occupy himself with when she turned to him. "I can do this, you've done so much already, cooked a nice dinner..."

"Not sure that you should thank me for that, I told you, I was no cook."

"Better than the hospital food," she promised. "But if you insist on helping, you can dry," she said, offering him the towel with a smile. It was strange, to stand comfortably in his kitchen, drying his dishes with Belle by his side. Honestly, if it allowed him to be near her, he would get down on his knees and scrub the floor, thought getting up might be difficult. This, he realized was something he had never had with his wife, comfort, just being in the same room. With her, he had always felt as if he had to work harder, push harder. There was always talking, planning, her desire for him to improve their circumstances, even though before the war he had been the most skilled at his craft, a skilled tradesman, much sought after for his thread and yarn. The idea of her standing by his side, washing dishes and humming a quiet tune. It took him a moment, but he realized that the tune was familiar, one she had known before, back at the castle. He had heard her humming it before, even singing it. The walls are coming down, he thought with both shock and pleasure. Soon, he thought. And then it will be time, time for Bae, time for Belle, and time for revenge.

Dishes finished and the kitchen set to rights, he led her through the house and up the stairs, or tried to. She stopped frequently, eyes drawn to this or that, the things that he had gathered. Finally he laughed and hurried her toward the stairs. "You'll have all the time you want to explore the house, and everything in it."

"Everything?' she asked, putting a hand on his arm, with a smiled that would have melted his heart, were it not already a puddle in his chest.

"Of course. Unless something is specifically locked, there is no reason that you can't explore."

"And if it is locked?" Belle asked with a cheeky grin. Damn her curiosity, he thought, but there was nothing but fondness there.

"Then ask me, dear. It's probably just an oversight. I want you to feel at home here," he said. "Now, there are several bedrooms on this floor, you are welcomed to any of them, well, save my own." And I'd give you that if you asked, he thought to himself.

"Any of them?" she asked, looking down the hall.

"Any," he replied. "The second door along there is the bathroom," he said, pointing to the door. "My room is the last one at the end. I will leave you to make your choice while I find you something..." he wasn't sure what he could give her. She deserved everything, but right now, she had nothing but the hospital gown, sweater, slippers and whatever underclothes she had at the hospital. But it was just for tonight. Tomorrow he would figure something out. He left her to chose and went into his own room.

He pulled a gold dressing gown from the wardrobe. It would be too big for her, but it was what he had. Then he rummaged through his drawers. Why had he never planned for this, he berated himself. Obviously because I never thought I would have a woman in the house, he reminded himself. Despite his magpie tendencies, women's clothing had stopped having any meaning to him at Belle's 'death'. Now he was caught short. She was small, shorter than he was, and slighter, more so now that she had spent so long locked away. Whatever he chose would be too big, but perhaps that would be even better. He remembered how comfortable she had been burrowed down in his coat. Finally he opened a drawer, silk pajamas. He had never believed in denying himself fine fabrics, and beautiful clothes, not since he had the ability to do so. The blue top should be more than enough for her. It would probably hang to her knees, and the robe to keep her warm should do well enough. It was perhaps a bit intimate, but he would apologize, and he was pretty sure that she would not take it the wrong way, not his Belle. As an afterthought he grabbed a pair of older, thick wool socks from another drawer. They would keep her feet warm for now.

When he came out, he saw Belle in the room directly across from his own. She was looking around as if she had never seen something like it. To be fair, she hadn't. As far as he knew, she had spent her entire time in a cell. It was a simple enough but beautiful room, dark wood furniture, blue walls, and a rug next to the bed that he was fairly certain had been in her room in the dark castle. It was funny the way things found there way to Storybrooke, and the ones that had been Belle's had almost all found there way here. "So you have made your choice?" he said with a smile.

"I think so, it feels right." She smiled and blushed at him just a little.

"Here, there are a few things, I..." he didn't know what to say. "I wasn't prepared for...guests." he finished lamely.

"They are fine," Belle said, moving to him, and taking the clothes from his hands. "Yours?" she asked, blushing just a little. Of course, so was he, and he'd not been sure that was even possible anymore.

"Would you like a bath?" he said, hoping to distract from the intimacy of this situation, though picturing her in the bath was no better. At her nod, he showed her the bathroom, a large old fashioned claw footed tub taking up the center of the room, thought there was a small shower as well. He rather liked the tub, he even used it sometimes. It was soothing to his leg, unfortunately it was also difficult to get in and out of. Mr. Gold pulled out some fresh towels for her, and started to back himself out the door, pausing to grab the door to pull it shut behind him.

"Don't, please?" she said hesitantly, her face gone scarlet.

"What..."

"Don't close the door, not completely. I can't..." she paused, so very ashamed but unable to stop, but she needed say nothing more.

"You are afraid to be locked in." It was a statement of fact, not an accusation.

"I know you wouldn't, but..." Her faith was touching, that and the fact that she was more concerned with being locked in than with her modesty.

"I'll just leave it open a crack," Mr. Gold told her with a little smile. "When you are done, I will be downstairs. I thought I would build a fire." She just nodded.

Belle laid back in the big tub and just...relaxed. She couldn't remember the last time she had a bath, a real bath in a tub. She wasn't sure that she ever had, actually but it felt a bit familiar. Not this tub, mind, but the sensation of floating. The soap was masculine, unsurprisingly, but not overwhelmingly so, just like all the toiletries she had found in there, clearly his, Mr. Gold's. She wondered how well they had known each other, really. He had certainly been cautious enough about what he said. She pondered what she had learned though. Mr. Gold, he ran a pawn and antique shop, liked old things, walked with a cane, knew her name, and how she liked her tea, and was willing to take her in with nothing more than her word that someone had let her out, offer her a place to live and cook for her. He was even willing to put up with her irrationality about the door.

Then there was the way he looked at her, as if he was afraid she would disappear. She wondered what had happened, not just to her, but between the two of them. There was no good way to ask. Belle had noticed his willingness to allow her touch, even welcome it, but reluctant to touch her on his own, probably afraid of how she would react, she thought. After all, she had pretty much told him she had just escaped from some kind of hospital. But he was so very gentle, and there was something special about the way he looked at her, that made her feel, well special. She didn't remember anyone ever looking at her like she was anything but an object, or an annoyance. Belle dragged herself slowly out of the warm bath, afraid if she stayed much longer, she would fall asleep there, and that would be really awkward.

Mr. Gold sat in his living room in front of the fire he had built. It wasn't something he did often, but it made the house at least feel familiar. He was listening carefully, for anything, a sign, a cry, the slightest sound that would lead him to rush to her side, to protect her from...whatever. It was all he could do, finding that he could concentrate on nothing else with her so close. The distraction could be an issue, later, but for now, he didn't care at all. He heard, finally, the soft fall of feet, first across the wooden floor of the hall, then descending the stairs. He had never thought about it, but he decided now that he loved that about his house, that he could hear every movement of her.


	6. Fireside

"Mr. Gold," Belle called quietly, as if she was afraid to disturb him. He could remember that voice so well, the way she would call to him in the great hall of the dark castle when she was unsure of his mood, or when she couldn't sleep but didn't want to disturb him.

"In here," he called. Belle padded quietly into the room, her hair wrapped in a towel, the dressing gown over large on her, and the wooly socks. She had a hairbrush in one hand, a silver backed brush that he vaguely remembered picking up some where, along with a comb and mirror, a set. Probably it had ended up in the bedroom that he knew he had somehow decorated with her in mind, albeit unconsciously, the way he had never changed her room in the dark castle, though he would magic away the dirt, and occasionally, just occasionally, add something, something he knew she would like, for when she returned. He had tried to stop himself after Regina had told him of her death, but it was like the clothes and things in Bae's room, he had never been able to stop himself, not for long.

"Come in, dear," he said, unable to keep the endearment off his lips. "The fire is warm. Was everything..." Gold didn't know how to ask, exactly.

"It was wonderful, I would have stayed longer, but I was afraid I might fall asleep. Thank you so much for...well, for everything." She came further into the room.

"I'm only sorry that I had nothing more appropriate for you," he said. "Please, make yourself comfortable. The fire is nice and warm, and I should look at those scrapes again now that you've cleaned up."

"It doesn't matter, after all you've done. Actually I feel properly warm for the first time in...well, I don't know how long. I didn't know what to do with my hospital clothes though. I suppose I should wash them for tomorrow," she said dubiously. Honestly the thought of wandering around his beautiful house in that awful gown embarrassed her to no end, but what else did she have? Then she remembered the dresses he had put in the kitchen, the ones brought from the shop.

"I can think of an appropriate place for them," he said, with a slightly bitter edge. "You certainly never have to wear them again, if you don't want. If the dresses in the kitchen don't work, we will manage something, for now, why don't you take the dresses upstairs, and bring down your hospital things."

Belle blushed a bit, but set the hairbrush down on the nearest table and went to do as he asked. She had honestly given the dresses the barest thought when they had arrived concentrating more on him and seeing what was around her, then dinner. She picked them up, resisting the impulse to look them over right then and there. Belle didn't really care much for fashion, at least she didn't think she did, but then she hadn't had anything but hospital clothes, and they were hardly stylish. Besides, there would be time for that later, she was sure of it. This place, it was like, well, it was a refuge of sorts, and for the first time in she didn't know how long she felt safe and warm and cared for. It was a little overwhelming, actually but she figured she'd get used to it.

Belle gathered up the dresses and carried them upstairs, just as he'd asked, and returned with her hospital gown, sweater and slippers. She hadn't the foggiest idea what he was going to do with them, though a vague thought about the kitchen refuse bin was a pretty good bet. Instead, when she brought them down, he pointed to the fire.

"Make it a clean break. This can be a... a new start for you?" For Us, he thought. Belle looked at him cautiously for just a moment, and then picked up the gown, neatly folded, shook it out and tossed it carefully into the fire, clapping her hands with childish delight when it caught fire immediately and burned within moments into nothing but unrecognizable ash. Gold joined her laughter, and rose to stand beside her, as she pitched the sweater in after. The ugly thing burned more slowly, bits of it turning into charred, burned mess, and it gave off an awful smell, but neither of them cared as they watched it disappear into the bed of coals. "Those now," he said, pointing to the thin slippers. He had formed in irrational dislike of the ugly, useless little shoes that had done little to protect her from the cold, or prevent her from falling, for all that they were never meant to be worn outside.

"Won't they smell?" Belle asked. "I mean, are you sure it's alright?"

"Go ahead, the smell will go, we can put some more wood on. I have the odd bit that is pleasant smelling," he encouraged her with a smile full of mischief, a smile that triggered something, not a memory, exactly, but a feeling, a pleasant one, like behind his formal appearance there was something...wicked. It made her feel a little giddy for some reason. She took one slipper, and handed the other one to him.

"Together?" she said, leaning towards him a little. He moved closer, allowing her to lean against him, as they tossed the last bits of her old life in the hospital into the fire. She was right, the smell was awful, and if the fireplace had not been so well designed, the black smoke that she was certain was, even now, billowing out of the chimney would have filled the room. But true to his work, Mr. Gold knelt carefully, poked at the fire a bit and then dropped some more wood on, very fragrant.

Almost immediately the air began to clear and a pleasant smell started to erase the other one. She wanted to help, but she didn't think she knew anything about fireplaces, and besides, he was a proud man, he'd not necessarily thank her for calling attention to his leg. He seemed to have little difficulty getting around, but she had noticed a minor grimace when he got down, and the extra few seconds it took him to get back to his feet. Instead, while he tended the fire, she removed the towel and took the brush from where she put it and sat down on one end of the settee, intent on getting the tangles out of her now clean hair.

After a few moments, he rose, slowly, and turned back to her. That she had put herself on the settee next to where he had been before, rather than the side chair, was not lost on him. For a moment he thought about seating himself in the chair, though he had never found the damn thing comfortable, just a touch to low to be comfortable for him to get out of it. It was only there for exactly that reason. Few people came to visit him at home, and he never felt any desire to encourage them to stay by getting comfortable. With Belle here, he might want to reconsider that.

For a few moments they sat in companionable silence, him watching her unobtrusively out of the corner of his eye, while pretending to watch the fire, her attacking her hair with something like enthusiasm. "ARHHH," she growled in frustration, letting out a breath as he turned to face her. "Perhaps I should just get the scissors, I'll never get the tangles all out. This is impossible."

"Don't be hasty," he said, though he wasn't sure what masochism led him in the next breath to offer to help her. He'd only done it once, when she had managed to accidentally trip into a bed of particularly sticky plants he kept in the garden for use in potions, but he couldn't stop himself, and before he knew what was happening, she had settled down on the floor in front of him, and the brush was in his hands.

Cursing himself in every language that he knew from every known land and kingdom, and a few known only to him, he carefully began separating her hair. Before that incident, it had been when Bae was a child, and like all boys, possibly all children, he wasn't sure, he had gotten the Gods only knew what in his hair, again. Milah had never, well despite giving birth to him, she had been an indifferent mother. He wasn't sure whether that was because of what he had done for the boy, or if she would have always been that way. He suspected the latter. It had taken him a long time to accept that, while he had loved his wife, she was never the woman he thought she was before she left him. She had never loved him the way he had loved her. Tossing off these dark thoughts, he concentrated on the beauty before him, the woman who could never be anything but what she was, never pretend, never dissemble.

Besides, he thought to himself, how hard could it be, it was no different from separating wool before he spun it, not that he spun much anymore, though he did still. Not straw to gold anymore, just plan wool, but he still found it relaxing, deep in the night when he couldn't sleep or when the nightmares were too close. That's a little secret that would shock the good citizens of Storybrooke, he thought to himself bitterly. Not that he had any intention of telling anyone, well, maybe anyone but Belle. They remained silent, except for her odd grunt of pain, his apology, and her telling him that he had no reason since he was the one helping her. Finally, when he had the tangles sorted, the knots brushed smooth, and he found himself brushing through the shining mass just to feel it slide between his fingers did he stop, a little self consciously and return the brush to her.

"It's getting late," he said, quietly. Belle jerked just a bit, startled. He wasn't sure if she had fallen asleep at his feet or not, but regardless, it was time to get her to bed.

"It is, yes. I'm so sorry, and you have to go to your shop tomorrow. I'm sorry I'm such a trouble," she said, biting thoughtfully on her lip, in an expression he remembered so well from their days together. She was thinking about something, something she wanted to ask him but couldn't find a good way to voice. But knowing her as he did, he knew that pressing her wouldn't help. Instead he rose and made himself busy banking the fire for the night. He could have just as easily put it out, but as it seemed to sooth her, he thought it best to leave it where it could be easily built up again.

"No need to apologize," he said over his shoulder. "I don't sleep much."

When he rose, she had gathered up her towel, and the hair brush, and was waiting for him, still chewing carefully on her lip. He dusted his hands a bit, and then beckoned her to proceed him up the stairs. At the top, she stopped to hang the towel neatly on its peg, and then went on to her room, him following slightly more slowly. She stood in the door way, still looking at him with that same curiosity, that same question that she wasn't quite prepared to ask. "What is it, Belle?" he asked, finally.

"It's just...You and I..." she started cautiously. "Were we... I mean before... were we...lovers?" she was looking down, her voice so quiet he almost didn't hear her, or thought he had misheard her.

"No," he said quickly and perhaps a little too vehemently. She looked at him, blushing hard, eyes full of misery. Clearly she had taken his words the wrong way. He closed his eyes for the moment, wondering how much he could tell her, how he could reassure her without.

"I'm sorry," she said, and this time she looked like she was about the cry. "It's only, I thought..."

"Belle," he said, reaching carefully for her, allowing her to pull away if she wanted to. "We weren't...before, we...we hadn't got that far..." he said finally trailing off lamely. Gold didn't want her to ever get the idea that he was rejecting her, regardless of what was going on in her head. He would never reject her again, he had made that promise to himself long ago. If she left, it would be of her own accord.

Belle was still blushing but she relaxed, and put her arms around him, allowing him to hold her close. "Alright, I just...I'm sorry I'm so stupid, and I know you are trying not to push me to remember or do anything wrong, its just you have been so kind, and I don't know why, and...I'm scared."

"Scared of what, sweetheart? I told you, I'll keep you safe, whatever you need...I'll..."

"I'm afraid of being alone," she said shyly. "I thought, if we had been..." It took every ounce of control he possessed and possibly a loan on all that he would ever possess in his long life to retain command of his body at that moment. His innocent Belle, wanting to share his bed because she was afraid of being alone. No, that was not going to happen, not now. Rumplestilskin could possess the self control of a saint when he chose to, but right here, right now...no. A solution was needed, but not that one. No wonder she had been so afraid to ask the question. He thought for a moment, wracking his brain for answers. Finally a solution presented itself, not ideal, but close enough for now.

"Get yourself tucked in," he said. "I'll come back and sit with you until you sleep."

"You...are you sure?" she said. "You've done so much, and I've made such a hash of... well..."

"Enough of that, now. You've done nothing wrong. Certainly you didn't...Belle, I know what it is to be afraid, and I'm not withholding things because I want to, I just..."

"You don't want to do anything wrong, I do understand," she said, still holding on to him. "Not got that far?" she said.

Apparently what he hadn't said had sunk in as well, that unspoken yet that he hadn't the courage to even give voice to. That if he had gotten her back, he would have done anything for her, that he wanted her but was always afraid that she didn't feel the same about him, because he was a monster, an old monster, and she was so very young. But none of that seemed to matter to the girl in his arms. Would she feel the way when she got her memory back? Certainly she made no move to pull away from him, there was no disgust, no distaste or avoidances of him. Dragging his thoughts from places that now was most certainly the wrong moment for, he tightened his hold just a moment. "To bed with you," he said, trying for stern. He failed miserably, and she laughed softly as she released him, and retreated into her room.

"You'll come back?" Belle said, trying to be light about it.

"I will," he agreed, pulling her door almost but not quite closed and retreating to his own bedroom, praying that she was asleep by the time he was done.

He took his time, changing slowly, hanging up each piece as he removed it, putting his pajamas on with more care for his leg that he usually took. Admittedly, it was paining him a little more than usual, probably just a little over worked. Next, choosing a dressing gown, deep red, the colour of a shirt he had once owned that Belle had expressed a fondness for. It was amazing the little choices that he had not even thought of at the time, that she had affected, long after he thought her dead. He pulled it on, as there was no way he was going to present himself at the lady's door in less. He tended to all those little human chores of health and hygiene, that people obsessed over, the ones he usually just rushed through with little care or concern. Finally there was no more putting it off, and he really didn't want to, if he were honest. As mildly painful as her presence was, especially with her memory gone and all that had happened, he would not trade it for the emptiness without her.

Belle lay tucked in her bed, the covers up to her chin. She had been reluctant to take the robe off, it was warm and comfortable and it smelled of the man who in the course of just a few hours had managed to make her feel better than she could ever remember feeling, cherished, that was it. But the socks she kept. In the hospital her feet had always been cold and she wasn't about to give up the warmth. Settling in to the first comfortable bed in her memory, she waited. Finally, a light tap at the mostly closed door, and he entered, slowly. Seeing her tucked up in bed, he smiled gently, almost...well as if this was familiar, as if he had seen her this way before. Maybe he has, she thought, but he's not going to tell me now, not unless I remember something. Slightly disappointed, but content enough to have him near, she watched him move a chair to her bed side and settle himself down, near enough to touch if she needed but not near enough for her to feel her space was being invaded.

"Sleep now," he said. And surprisingly, she did.


	7. First Steps

Mr. Gold rose slowly from the chair, stretching a little and grimacing at the pain. The chair in Belle's room was never meant to be slept in. Not that he had slept much, not that he had any intention of staying the whole night with her. His intent has been to sit with her 'til she fell asleep before returning to his own room and his empty bed. Not that he minded, not really. Just having her here, just knowing she was alive was so much more than he had ever hoped for. He would have done anything to please her, a little bit of physical discomfort was nothing compared to the guilt and grief he had carried for all these years. But he had only just started to rise from the chair when her cry had alerted him. Nightmares, something with which he was intimately familiar. He had reached out, awkwardly. It had been a long time since he had soothed anyone's nightmares, more like caused them. He was quite good at that. But when he whispered her name, and stroked her hair, she settled instantly, almost like magic. The rest of the night had passed that way, with her twisting in her dreams, and his hand on her shoulder, her hair, whatever to took to settle her.

Only once had she truly woken, or as close to. She had opened her sleepy eyes, to see him. "Always liked that colour on you," she said vaguely, sleepily before sliding back into sleep. He had been stunned, but when the shock wore off, he settled back in his chair happier than he had been. Her memories were still intact, like those of the rest of town, only accessible in dreams or odd, subconscious likes and tastes. The way Mary Margaret reached for David Nolan, no memory, but a sense of what was right. When the curse fell, his Belle would be back, her memories intact. She might hate him forever, he realized, but he doubted it. Belle wasn't like that, too good for that. But he would make every effort to make it up to her, if it took forever.

After that, he spent the rest of the night planning between bouts of nightmares, working out a plan to get her some more clothes, how to hide her, the little details. Once his Belle was safe and settled, then it would be time to settle accounts with Regina. Killing her was indeed still an option he would like to explore, but he was fairly certain that Belle would oppose it. Besides, it would be too quick and too clean. Torture too was out. Belle had never been keen, and while he had never enjoyed it as much as he allowed other people to believe, still it was a messy, unpleasant business, and there were better ways.

Taking Henry away from Regina, helping Miss Swan gain custody of her son, that had possibilities. He was a smart lad, and Gold genuinely liked him, though he didn't consider himself over fond of children in general. Something about him reminded him a bit of his Bae, when he was a young boy, mostly but not entirely without the mud. Bae had always been capable, smart and loyal to his friends, even when many of them abandoned him after what his father had become. He had told his father once that his friends stood by him when the rest of the village treated his father as an outcast, he would do the same when his father was a threat to them. Of course then he had turned around and asked his father not to turn them into anything, but even he acknowledged now, with time and distance, that he had been a bit out of control at the time, drunk with his own power. It had taken losing his son for him to really come back to himself, or as close as he had come.

Gold pulled himself from these thoughts to focus on his more immediate problems, Belle's clothing and safety, breaking the curse, finding his son, then Regina. It never did to forget one's priorities. For the first, he knew clothing could be purchased remotely via the computer, not one of his favorite instruments, but he would acknowledge the usefulness. It never ceased to amaze him what people did, and how they got along without magic, but that was a thought for another time. So, he could get clothes for Belle that way, but even with all the money at his disposal, it would take a few days. He could hardly ask her to wash out her underclothes in the sink like a peasant with only one set of... he steered his thoughts away from there quickly. Besides those sorts of things, there were shoes, night clothes, toiletries, all the other things that a man, especially one who had not lived with a woman in so long, and never in this world, would not think of.

What he needed was a woman, one that he could trust, who wouldn't share his secret. The first one to come to mind of course was Sheriff Swan. Emma was a steadfast as her parents, strong, courageous and utterly trust worthy. And of course, in this case, completely useless. Not that he wouldn't trust her, but there was always the chance that Regina would have her out searching for the escaped prisoner/patient/whatever excuse she would use to explain her. Emma also couldn't defy Regina, not openly like that, not yet, while Henry was at stake. She would never risk her son, and rightly so, no matter how much it inconvenienced him. Despite the fact that there was no way that Regina could manage legally, the solution might take time, and he wasn't willing to put his girl even close to Regina's clutches. He wouldn't willingly let anyone take her out of the house but himself, not right now. That could be a problem, later, he realized, his possessive streak, but that would be keep, for when she was safe.

The second choice was just as useless to him. Mary Margaret Blanchard was everything her daughter was, but right now the two of them were sharing her loft, and keeping a secret in that kind of situation was not an easy task. Besides, Mary Margaret also had a lot going on, and he wasn't about to interfere with anything that would bring the curse to an end, even if it inconvenienced him. Slowly he allowed him mind to flick through all the women in town, who they were now, who they had been, toting up their debts to him as well as Regina, and organizing them by trustworthiness. Half the night, and he could only come up with one name, one woman in all of Storybrooke, who owed him nothing and Regina even less. She wasn't particularly friendly to him, but neither did she actively hate him, and she was a good person, regardless of what she sometimes thought of herself. Not ideal, but then what was in this world, he thought to himself.

Now it was close on 6 am. The sun had not yet begun to rise in the winter sky, but he had things he needed to do, and if his plan was to work, and still remain a secret from the rest of this over small town, he needed to get started early. Belle had woken as he stood, as though she was somehow aware of him movements even in her sleep. "What time is it?" she asked quietly, stifling a yawn.

"Too early for you to worry about, dearie," he said, unable to stop himself from slipping back into at least some patterns. "I have to go see someone about helping us. You can stay in bed if you like, you need your sleep."

"I'm fine. I can get up. I don't suppose I can go with you?" she asked, thought pretty sure she knew the answer.

"Not a good idea, Belle. I need to know what Regina is going to do about your disappearance. By now, she is sure to know you are gone, and since her emprisonment of you was entirely illegal, that doesn't mean she hasn't got something up her sleeve. I don't trust her, certainly not with you."

"What about you? What if she tries to do something to you?" she said, slightly alarmed at the idea of him out and about with the nebulous specter of the woman who had become her boogie man lurking.

"Now, you don't have to worry about me, dearie. I know how to handle Regina." The smile on his face was cunning and not entirely pleasant. "Besides, she knows better than to come directly at me. For now, you just rest."

"I'm fine, really I am. Isn't there something I can do?" she asked. He thought about it. Honestly, while he knew he had to go to the shop today, for all that it held no appeal to him, he'd not thought how she would occupy herself, though occupy herself she would, that about her he knew.

"Let me attend to this, and we will sort that when I get back. Perhaps, you could make us some tea?" he asked. Gods how he had missed that. The thought of her sitting on the table, swinging her feet, while he sat back in his chair... He pushed that thought back hard.

"Of course, I can do that, hardly a challenge," she smiled at him, and started to sit up, the covers falling down to her waist. The image of Belle in his pajama shirt was more than enough to get him moving, out the door and into his own room with a strict reminder to himself to keep his thoughts firmly away.

He dressed with more care than usual, moving slower than he would like to, but his leg was truly unhappy about the night in the chair. Only when his appearance was perfect did he finally open the door. Belle was out of the bed, the dressing gown wrapped around her, looking radiant even in her borrowed, oversized clothes and he couldn't help but smile. She was going through the dresses he had brought, her lip between her teeth, in concentration.

"Anything you like?" he asked. She turned a little too quickly, and he realized she hadn't known he was there.

"They are all lovely. I don't know. Maybe, when you get back, you could help?" she asked. He didn't know what to say. He cared little for what she wore, as long as she was comfortable, and what he knew about women's fashion was limited to what he liked and what he didn't, Regina had style but it was too cold, Mary Margaret, a little too wholesome, rather like the nuns, Emma, too modern, and Ruby Lucas...well that was an entirely different kettle of fish.

"I...if you like," he said, bemused. That was something to think about later. "I'm afraid I can't tell you anything about fashion."

"It doesn't matter, I've never cared much for fashion, at least I don't think so. I'll settle for not looking like a...like either a tart or a vagabond," she finished.

"You could never look like either," he assured her. "But there is time to worry about that later. Actually, there is something you can do while you are gone," he said, realizing it wasn't something he had thought about, but might be important, though he knew she would hate it, if the situation went on too long. She was never a creature of the darkness, his Belle. "Check the rooms, the ones where the curtains are open, close the doors, and keep from them. I don't want to make changes in case someone is watching but neither do I want you visible to prying eyes."

"Will there be prying eyes?" she asked.

"I expect so, and until we are sure, I want to make sure you are safe, yes?" he said, making a question.

"Yes," she agreed and came to him, reaching up to kiss his cheek. He smiled, pushing away all the other thoughts that suddenly came crowding in.

"What was that for?" he asked, putting an amazed hand to his cheek.

"For caring for me, and keeping me safe," she said. "Now, you had best hurry on your errand. The sooner you leave, the sooner you are back." He turned and made his way slowly down the stairs, reluctant to leave her, regardless of the necessity. He had just got her back, it was too soon to leave her.

He drove down Main Street with an eye open for his target. It was early and to say that the little town was quiet would be an understatement. More like comatose. The winter chill, and the lack of sunlight kept people home and indoors as long as possible. Only the light at Granny's was on. Though they weren't open yet, he knew that the formidable old woman was already at work in the kitchen, cooking and baking for the long day ahead. He also was well aware that her Granddaughter who served at the counter would go in no earlier than she needed to. Ruby was not one to be chained down. Regardless of the world, she was still half wild. But she had never been actively hostile to him, or no more so than many people in town, not since he had allowed Ashleigh to keep her baby in exchange for an undisclosed favour from the new Sheriff. Part of him had actually been glad. While he would have found the child a good home, still regardless of what people thought, he didn't enjoy taking children. He only took them from those who were too selfish or foolish or poor, those who would not have the resources to care for them. But Cinderella's prince had come through, in the end. Some stories were bound to repeat themselves, though this time without him ending in a cage. The girl had, in fact, been more capable than he originally thought, in both worlds. Perhaps he just didn't have a lot of faith in Princesses, or possibly women.

A moment later, and a flash of red and he saw his quarry, coming around from the back. Ruby Lucas was not particularly dressed for the weather. Perhaps she was just more immune to the cold than most, but so was he. He dragged himself slowly from the car, more aware than usual of his appearance, or rather of how people viewed him. Gold had a certain...reputation, and this situation could be interesting. "Miss Lucas," he greeted her genially.

"Mr. Gold, what do you want?" she said. She wasn't particularly rude about it, just abrupt, but that was her. Straight to the point. "We aren't open yet, and its not the beginning of the month. Granny is inside..." she said.

"Actually I wanted to speak to you, if you don't mind," he said, his voice as neutral as possible.

Ruby looked at him. Mr. Gold was generally considered the town monster, though he had never been particularly rude to her. He was neither a poor landlord nor a generous one. Things got fixed when they needed to, immediately, but he was also right there when the rent was due. Exacting, that was it. She had been angry at him about Ashleigh, well, not angry exactly, after all, she had made the deal, even though Ruby tried to talk her out of it. Of course Ruby had tried to talk her out of dating a guy who was still that tied to his father's purse strings too. She thought about what she knew about him, really knew. He had never been rude to her when he ate at the diner, not a bad tipper, but not generous either, exactly the right amount every time. He never flirted with her, or tried to pat her ass, for which she was grateful. He was rich and not exactly unattractive, but far to old for her. Overall, she supposed she could trust him well enough to talk to him, it wasn't like he was trying to lure her anywhere.

"What do you want?" she asked, a little harsh, but that's what he got.

"I find myself in an awkward position, I need...I need your help," he said. It was the first time she had ever known him to be unsure of...well anything actually.

"My help?" Ruby asked, confused. She wasn't sure what the richest man in town could want with a waitress.

"It's a little...delicate," he said, guiding her over to the side of the building, not wanting to be seen by prying eyes. Ruby went with him, but she kept a wary eye out. Got to watch the quiet ones, her Granny had taught her that.

He took a deep breath and she could almost believe he was nervous, if it was anyone else. "Well, I haven't got all day, Granny's going to be all over me."

"There is a young lady..." he started.

"Dating advice?" she asked, shocked and amazed.

"No, no," Gold reassured her. "Nothing like that. This young lady has just escaped a...bad situation."

"Boyfriend troubles? And she came to you?" she asked, again shocked and not sure she believed him.

"Miss Lucas, if you will allow me to continue," he said, slightly stern. Ruby was too curious now to distract him. She nodded. "Good, now, as I was saying, there might be people looking for her. She is safe for the moment, but there are things, things that I can't..." he paused trying to find a way to say what he wanted to say. "She left with nothing but the clothes on her back," Mr. Gold said finally.

"You want me to shop for her?" Ruby asked. Ok, not stupid or weird, well not to weird, she thought.

"I would like you to purchase some things, yes. As you know, this is a small town, I can hardly be seen purchasing women's clothing, not without having a lot of awkward questions," he said, with a passing smile. "Besides, I would have no idea...Suffice it to say, I have not purchased anything for a woman since my wife passed," he said it quietly, and suddenly Ruby remembered something, vaguely, about Gold being a widower, maybe something Granny said, but from a long time past.

Gold smiled. He knew the nature of the spell, he should after all. It would fill in little things, bits that he added, or that Regina did, things that hadn't been built in to round out the history of the town and its people, even him. Right now, Ruby was remembering, maybe feeling a little sympathy for him, as she already did for the girl who was escaping a 'bad situation'. She was an excellent choice.

"Ok, so you want me to help you get clothes for this girl. Why me?" she asked. "Why not the sheriff or..."

"Sheriff Swan is an excellent law enforcement officer. But this situation is...complicated. I wouldn't wish to put the Sheriff in an awkward position. Especially as the Mayor might take an interest in where the young lady is."

Ok, Ruby thought to herself, definitely bad situation. While she was mostly ambivalent about Gold, there was something about the Mayor that she had never particularly trusted. But didn't she want to get into a situation between them. She thought about it for a moment. Ruby didn't see herself as particularly altruistic, come to it, she didn't see Gold that way either. Still it seemed a simple enough deal, no twists that she could see. "What's in it for me?" She asked. Ruby knew she would probably do it anyway, but she was pretty sure that was how to cope with Gold.

"Why money of course," he said with a smile. "I will give you money to purchase whatever it is you need for her. Purchase yourself a few things as well, to make it look good. In addition, I will give you an extra...what is fair... one hundred dollars?" he asked. Mr. Gold knew it would be difficult for her to resist. The little wolf girl had been trying to save money to get out on her own for some time, everyone knew it, well everyone except possibly her Granny, but he thought even the canny old widow was aware that she couldn't keep her home forever. "Or would you rather have that apartment you have been looking at? I could forgo the deposit," he said invitingly.

Ruby thought about it. One hundred dollars was nice money, but she had been trying to save for that apartments for six months. Then there was Granny, how would she like it if she just moved out? It was a difficult choice. "I'll do it, not for you, but to help the girl," She said, just so he knew what her position was. "Let me think about the other," she said finally. Gold didn't look pleased. She was pretty sure that he didn't like leaving deals open ended like that, but he nodded cautiously.

"We have a deal then, Miss Lucas. Do you have a few moments now? Considering the situation, I don't wish to deviate from my schedule, it might cause...notice." Ruby thought about it, ordering her day in her head.

"Let me tell Granny that I need to...run home for something," she said quickly.

"Tell no one, Miss Lucas, not even your Grandmother. Not that she isn't trustworthy, but this is a small town." She just nodded and ran around to the back door.

Gold sat in his car with the heater running, hoping that it would dull the pain in his leg and wishing that the blasted girl would hurry up. It was still early, in fact the conversation had not taken as long as he was necessarily thought it would but still, he hated to be away from her for so long. It seemed like an eternity, but it was really only a moment when the girl came running out and ducked into his car. "Best be quick, Granny thinks I am just running back to the house to change my skirt, I told her..." she stopped, he was looking at the road. Men, so easy, she thought.

The large pink house didn't look particularly scary, Ruby thought. She had never been in, of course, few people had. She had to wonder about the colour, actually. Gold didn't seem like the Pink house kind, but then maybe his wife liked it, or he had just never got around to painting it. He took her around to the back door, keeping a careful watch out to see if anyone was around before ushering her into the back door.

Ruby looked around the kitchen, it was clean, nice enough, neither modern and fancy nor old fashioned and run down. There was a kettle on the stove and a tea pot full of what appeared to be water sitting to the side. Gold went first, telling her to wait for him. "Belle is a little...cautious," he said. She just nodded and sat down at the table, putting her purse on the top.

"Belle," he called as he went through the door, and a moment later there was an answer, and a quiet conversation she couldn't quite hear before the two of them came into the room. The girl he had called Belle was short, dark haired and had very blue eyes. She was also clearly wearing a robe that must belong to Gold, the sleeves rolled up, and hem at the ground.

"Hey, I'm Ruby," she said as she stood up and offered her hand.

"Belle," she said cautiously.

"Ok Belle, so we need to make a list. What kind of..." she started to say, before Gold cut her off.

"Perhaps, Belle, you and Miss Lucas..."

"Why don't we go into the other room?" Belle said, blushing just a little while Gold turned to the tea pot and poured the water into the sink, looked at neither of them.


End file.
